


I call it love

by hazyamethyst



Category: London Spy
Genre: Boys Being Cute, Comfort, Declarations Of Love, Established Relationship, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Introspection, M/M, Mild Fluff, Short & Sweet, london scenery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-22
Updated: 2016-01-22
Packaged: 2018-05-15 13:11:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5786440
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazyamethyst/pseuds/hazyamethyst
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  
</p><p> </p><p>  <em>You're in my mind all the time,  </em><br/><em> You know it's true. </em><br/><em> I call it love, I call it love, </em><br/><em> Just me and you.</em></p><p> </p><p>(*editing this bc my summaries are v bad)</p>
            </blockquote>





	I call it love

**Author's Note:**

> This is just pointless fluff, really. I'm still crying over the mini-series so no sad ending here, yay!  
> Any feedback is much appreciated:)

The sun is setting.

Orange hues wash over porcelain skin, softly, almost reverently. The lukewarm caress is hard to reject on London’s crude winter, especially when out in the woods. Battling shadows and losing, sunshine moves up from Danny’s neck, all the way to his jaw and the pointed chin there, where soft flashes highlight the rough stubble bashfully. Looking up, Alex catches sparks in his lover’s pupils, a dark glow constricted by the wide leafy irises surrounding them, but lasting anyhow. For a couple of minutes, tops. Then it’s all dusky and foggy and the hand Alex raises needs guidance to frame his lover’s face properly.

“Cold?”

Alex’s fingers brush up and down the soft edges of Danny’s face. Leaning in, Alex sees his lover’s cheeks have actually a scarlet shade to them but the smooth skin remains mostly chilly to the touch. It’s on his temple, though, where the calculating fingertips linger a bit too long, drawing imperfect circles and stray stars and numbers. Danny tilts to the side, giving way, but his mouth remains shut. Alex moves his hand then, ready to dive back into the mess of silky, if a bit tangled, raven hair he’s so fond of.

“Answer me,” The blond paws and pulls at the tresses, albeit a mite transfixed by Danny’s pliant response. Eyes closed, sagged shoulders, lips parted the tiniest bit. Silently, Alex wishes he were able to relax that easily, to trust and let all guards down in favour of love and caring. Not momentarily, not partially. More.

Danny deserves _more._

As if able to read his thoughts, green eyes blink open and shoot him an lovelorn look. Danny wants to kiss him, that much's clear. It's written all over his face, and Alex catches second guessing himself about the set rules.

 _Can't_.

Alex bites his lip, hand easing off his grasp and going back to a soft slow fondling of unruly locks.

“Well, not exactly.” The boy chuckles lightly and the easy, spontaneous sound tugs at Alex’s heartstrings the moment it’s out.

“Hmm?”

“Wouldn’t be opposed to some snugglin’, though” Danny giggles on freely. His head is giving the customary bow sideways, inviting as ever. Friendly, playful, innocent to the core.

Alex blinks, not so much considering the offer but taking in the sweetness oozing off the dark-haired boy. _His boy_. All dimples and little teeth, hunching up now and becoming a little ball of quivering flesh. He’s cold, indeed. An unexpected pang hits Alex in his very chest at the sight and before he can rationally process it, he’s pulling Danny onto his lap with little –if any- finesse. Thankfully, Danny just lets out a throaty little sound and admires, with hungry eyes, the arms encircling his way too narrow waist.

“Nice,” Danny breathes out, a bit overwhelmed by the spicy ginger scent he catches on his boyfriend’s neck when leaning back. At this point, he’s all but melting against the firm muscles that hold him. Welcoming, warm and undemanding. _Alex_.

He feels safe.

“Better now, lamb?”

“Will you ever…”

“Stop?”

“I’m no lamb, Alex.”

“Not literally, no. Of course.”

A muffled sigh escapes Danny, whose body tenses up all of a sudden. His teeth bite down on his thumb, trying to pluck the cuticle off the edges. Restless green eyes scan the sky in fragments as they wander and, for a minute, there’s a solemn silence that Alex can’t help but read, analyse and theorise while it lasts. ” You see me now and maybe think… I don’t know.” Danny neck stiffens with a jolt and Alex frowns, pulling the lithe body he cradles closer to his chest.

“I’ve changed ever since, yes, but…it took time, you know? Truth is, I’ve been a wayward duck for most of my life. Cheers’t’ that. Ha!” Danny shuffles a bit and reaches out to pick up the thermos nearby. Immediately, he proceeds to pour himself a cup of hot, sweet-smelling tea.

A quick shift, both emotional and physical.

Alex decides to ignore both and his own deep voice soon breaks the static atmosphere.

“I live in the present. I love you in the present, Danny.”

“But still,”

“Why ‘duck’?” Alex raises a brow, strangely amused at his discovery.

“Huh?”

“You referred to yourself as a wayward…’duck’?”

Danny downright guffaws then, sending flying tiny drops of caramel liquid that stain his t-shirt and make a sticky mess of his proud little chin. Still, the vibrations resonate all over Alex rib cage and chest, making him feel liquid inside and pleasantly warm on the surface, quite a shocking contrast to the chilling wind that keeps blowing right through them.

An unrelenting January breeze, nonetheless.

“Erm…I suppose so, yeah” Danny sips his beverage twice, a wistful expression settling on his face. He sighs calmly though, and the steam coming off his cup ends up blending with his hot breath in the open air. “They always seem a bit lost, don’t they? Quacking miserably and running away from the traditional queue every now and then? Torn and just…ridiculously not yellow?! As popular belief would’ve it, oh well…”

It was intended as a joke, but Danny’s voice turned a little too high and hurried in the end. Enough of a tell-tale for Alex to pick up on and so worry about the underlying significance of the apparently trivial matter.

“You’re good, Danny. I’ve no doubt you’ve always been.” Alex smiles, a rare gem for Danny to see through tired, hooded eyes. For him and because of him. “On track or off, you’re the only one person I’ve ever been able to call that. Good. You’re so good and loving. I want to take care of you.”

“You already do, Alex.”

“No. Not like this. You’re in danger while with me. All the time, lamb.”

“Bollocks!”

“I wish,”

Danny opens his mouth, but can’t quite pick his comeback. He knows maybe half of the dangers involved in smoking and still does. And will. That’s the most authentic take on life he feels he’s preserved so far. To him, risks alone are pointless: a rush of adrenaline won’t be fulfilling for too long. It’s a crash and burn game you get caught up into, one that can’t be won. Drugs and their highs, clubs and their boom…temporary, fading, gray clutters of memories that push you further into the abyss of the so-feared numb nothingness. But not tobacco and its calming lulling taste. That remains. In the back of your throat, in your fingers. Ghosting over the subtle traces caresses leave. And kisses. And all those things that give meaning to a sack of bones.

So he says it, expecting no reply. He is the talker, the impulsive, the mess of feelings and emotions spilling all over at any given chance.

Alex, on the other hand, is the stability he clings on, the soft murmured monosyllables, the feather-like kisses…The blond bestows two on his nape now, and the habitual silence succeeding twilight is not quite devoid of sound with two bodies pressed up close. Not with their uneven breathing, thumping hearts and searching digits.

It speaks volumes up close, just not so much for the cameras and outsiders hiding in bushes, no.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Random fact: The title is actually a song by Emilie Simon. I was just listening to it and it seemed pretty fitting!


End file.
